


Another Night

by flowerslut



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Gothic, Still Vampires Though, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerslut/pseuds/flowerslut
Summary: There isn’t much he can do behind his bar. Even with the shotgun he always keeps in arms reach, it never appears to make a difference to the monsters that slink through the shadows, snatching up men and women from their beds as often as they go missing from the streets.It isn’t until a tiny girl appears, telling him that they need to run (away, together, quickly, now) that he realizes a gang of criminals or a pack of wild animals is the least of his worries.(Jalice Week 2020)+(Whumptober 2020 crossover—No. 5: Failed Escape)
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15
Collections: Jalice Week 2020





	Another Night

There is no safety here.

It’s a hard fact—an unforgiving truth—that the townspeople have come to acknowledge over the past several months.

It started off with a group of missing kids. Boys that strayed too far to the edge of town. The last anyone saw of them they were chasing down a stray cat, tossing rocks at the animal as they laughed and ran towards the acres of nothing that surrounded their little municipality, miles of dry earth separating them from the next closest town.

Days later the cat returned, but the boys never did. A search party had been conducted, and all seven men had vanished, too. 

At first, leaving town had been advised against. There was something out there, the sheriff explained to Jasper, sitting across from him at his bar as he poured the tired, old man a drink. Something was out there, taking anyone who walked too far off into the plains. Their only choice, until they figured out what was happening, was to stay put.

Jasper watched him leave that night, patting that same cat on the head on his way out of the bar. Jasper had glared at the animal before picking up a broom and chasing it out the door.

Two days later the sheriff was also missing.

Now, every time he saw that cat he reached for his gun. He hadn’t grown up with an ounce of superstition in his body. His uncle had been a wise man; someone who had implored Jasper to think realistically, and with sense. He’d been a man of little faith, earning himself more than his fair share of disapproval, but he was the smartest man Jasper knew.

“There is always a reason for things,” he explained to Jasper on more than one occasion when he’d been a boy, “don’t ever let someone tell you something is unexplainable.”

And though there was no sense in ghost stories, Jasper knew from his days in the war that different things could haunt you in different ways.

For a few weeks, the people of his tiny town stayed within the confines of the area. Mothers and wives fretted fiercely, wanting to desperately send letters to their sons and husbands working and traveling, imploring them to stay away while it wasn’t safe.

But the postman hadn’t been seen since the week the sheriff vanished, leaving the town disconnected from the rest of the world. And now, no visitors had arrived in months.

But when staying in town stopped being enough, people began to panic.

Little Lisa Davis had been snatched from her bed the same night that the Miller men vanished. There’d been theories that floated around then, that perhaps they were behind the disappearances. _No one_ would’ve dared hurt a hair on James Davis’ little girl.

But then the disappearances began to turn into deaths.

The first discovery was gruesome. Davey Clark’s body had been found in the cellar of his home, his neck twisted and opened, his blood cool beneath his mangled body.

Jasper had been one of the men who had volunteered to go help clean up the scene. After all, he’d seen sights just as gory during the war. He could at least stomach the evidence of the monstrous violence, unlike some of the younger fellows.

His only takeaway from that day was that whatever was killing these people—because Davey’s body had been confirmation enough for Jasper that these missing people would not be returning— was absolutely not human.

He had sense, he had to remind himself at night when he cleaned glass pints with a rag, his shotgun never more than arm’s length away from him. He had _plenty_ of sense. But the evidence pointed to something that he couldn’t quite explain yet, and Jasper was no fool. Ghost or monster, it didn’t matter. What mattered now was something Jasper had always been good at: survival.

So, he stopped sleeping at home. Instead he slept in the cellar of the bar in a room behind a room where he could adequately barricade the door, only a lantern to keep him company, as well as his guns as he struggled to sleep.

The disappearances (murders, he eventually had to correct himself) only happened at night, so Jasper stayed alert as much as he could.

When a newcomer came to town, nearly four months after the madness began, people ran from her. Mothers dragged their children into their homes, men grabbed their guns and waited by the windows, and even Jasper locked the doors of his bar, telling his patrons of the afternoon to stay back and shut up.

When a knock at the door broke the silence, Jasper gripped the gun tighter.

“Please let me in,” a woman’s voice implored. And Jasper was so thrown off by how young she sounded that he almost opened the door immediately. “I don’t want them to get me.”

“Don’t you dare, Whitlock,” George Hicks whispered roughly, his own pistol pointed toward the door they both were staring at. “You let that beast in and we’re all dead.”

“Please,” she begged, “It’ll be sundown soon. I’ve been walking all day.”

“You and Len get out through the back and get to Tippy’s,” Jasper eventually commanded of the other men. And when the woman on the other side of the door began to weep, he gestured toward the men with his gun. “Hurry up.”

“That thing’ll kill you, boy.” George shook his head, spitting on the floor as he and the other two men quickly scurried to the back of the bar where they’d find their escape.

Jasper cocked the gun and counted to ten. On eleven he swung the door open, pointing the gun at the woman who stood on the porch, crying heavy, relentless tears.

To her credit she didn’t jump or run away at the sight of a gun being pointed at her face. If anything, she looked relieved. “Thank you,” she shuddered, her dirty dress lying in tatters around her bare feet.

“What do you want?” Jasper commanded, trying to ignore the horrible guilt that kept working it’s way to the surface. _She’s just a woman_ , his mind screamed at him as he held his shotgun steady, _she’s harmless._ But Jasper knew better than to trust a newcomer during this terrifying summer. “Where did you come from?”

“I travelled here from the East,” she spoke her explanation hurriedly. “It’s been about a week now—straight from Mississippi, sir.” Her accented words appeared to back up the claim, but her state of dress kept his suspicions burning like new. “A friend helped me but they got him. Or well,” she sighed, tears springing down her face like new, “he ran off to distract them so I could get through. I’ve been running all night and all day, sir.”

“And why did you come here?” He asked, peering at her with hard eyes over the gun. In his peripheral he could see the neighbors peeking through the window at the scene. Jasper Whitlock pointing his gun at the strange newcomer, surely wondering if he was the next to go.

“I can’t explain yet, sir. I apologize. And I reckon you won’t believe me.” Despite her tiny stature she stood straight, her face proud and unflinching as she stared back up at him, ignoring the gun’s presence completely. “By all means if you intend on firing that thing go on ahead, but I’m here to help you. Unless you want to be eaten, too.”

Jasper lowered the gun slightly at that. Whether she was calling his bluff or not, Jasper wasn’t sure. (There was no way he’d actually be able to pull the trigger.) Her words confused him. “Eaten?”

“Yes sir. There’s blood drinkers not far. They’re the ones hanging around these parts.”

“I—how do you know this?”

“My friend is one,” she provided without a flinch. Then, her face crumbled as her tears sprung forth like new. “Or, he was one. I fear he’s dead and gone now.”

“And you’re here to help us?”

“To help _you_ ,” she emphasized with a pointed look, and when she took a step closer he stepped back. She smiled then, looking ridiculous with her dirty, tear-stained face. “You won’t hurt me.” And then when she stepped around him, walking into the bar with peculiar confidence, he finally lowered the gun.

Gazing across the street he made eye contact with a man watching through his cracked front door and shook his head. If this girl was a threat, Jasper would soon find out. But something in his mind told him that she wasn’t the one causing the chaos that had struck their town.

He closed and locked the door behind him, turning back toward the woman. She’d made her way over to his bar and was perched up on it, already having helped herself to a glass of water. Using his old dish rag she dipped it into the glass and began to clean at her face and hands.

“I’m sorry to frighten you so,” she commented as she worked to clean herself from the desert’s grime. “There isn’t much time, I’m afraid.”

“Before what, precisely?”

“Before they’re back again.”

“The vampires?” He spoke, feeling foolish at the use of the word.

She nodded, and his chest felt tight with the confirmation. Somewhere in his mind he could hear his dead uncle protest, claiming that no such monsters existed. But whether a storybook creation or a thing of true nightmares, Jasper wasn’t about to doubt this strange newcomer.

“You don’t have anything to fear from _me_ ,” she spoke after a long pause, as if knowing his train of thought. She glanced up at him through long, dark eyelashes and sighed. “I’m as human as you.” Then, she re-wetted the rag and began to clean her dirty, bare feet.

“Why don’t you have shoes?” He demanded.

“I told you my friend took me out west,” she acted as if this was information he was supposed to have figure out already. “I wasn’t running. He was.”

“But you didn’t think to grab shoes before leaving?”

“It was a matter of urgency.” She turned her nose up and Jasper nearly laughed. As if she had any business pretending to be prim when she was cleaning her dirty feet with his good rag, her skinny legs exposed to a man she’d only known for a handful of minutes. “I can make you believe me, but I’m afraid it’ll frighten you more.”

“I’m a hard man to shake, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Alice.”

“Alice,” he stepped closer to her, his hands still firmly gripping his gun, although he relaxed slightly. “Help me to believe you then.”

“Okay, _Jasper_ ,” she looked pointedly up at him. “Tonight your friend with the beard is next and tomorrow no one will go missing. And two nights from now if we aren’t on the road by then I won’t be able to protect you anymore.”

“How do you know my name?” Did she have family here? No. If that were the case people wouldn’t have treated her like _she_ was the monster when she appeared in town. His mouth felt dry as he replayed her words. How was this tiny girl supposed to protect _him_? It was as laughable as it was absurd.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit touched,” she confessed, finally directing her attention to the mess of hair that lung limply around her face. Meticulously, she began to slowly work her fingers through the strands, untangling it slowly. “I’ve seen things I can’t explain since I was a girl. It’s how I made my friend. And it’s how I led him out here. To you.”

“Why _me_?”

She hummed, as if amused by his insisting. “How much do you believe so far?”

“None of it.”

“Shame.”

“You want me to leave with you?” She nodded, looking back up at him. He took a few steps closer, finally resting the gun down on the bar. Close enough that he could still grab it, but far enough away that it was out of Alice’s reach. “And how will the… _vampires_ not get us?”

“If we leave the day after tomorrow.”

“How are you so certain of things you can’t even prove to me.”

“Because I don’t need to,” she smiled again, and Jasper had to agree. She _was_ a bit touched in the head. “It is the way it is. And if you don’t believe me we’ll both die.”

“Why you, too?”

“Because I’m not leaving without you.”

He laughed then, picking his gun back up and walking around the bar. “You’re not staying here.”

“So you’d send me back onto the streets? I’d die for sure tonight.”

He sighed loudly, putting the gun back down before uncapping the gin behind the bar. Taking a swig he closed his eyes. When he opened them, Alice had swung her feet around so that she was facing him once more, holding her arm out expectantly.

He placed the bottle in her palm and watched curiously as she took a sip and then sputtered and coughed.

He laughed again. “How old are you?”

She glared at him, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Not much of a lady, this one. Then, she tipped the bottle again, clenching her eyes shut tight as she took another swig. This one she held down. With a gasp, she shook her head, handing back the bottle. “I’m nineteen, thank you.”

Then, her eyes shot toward the door, and Jasper immediately acted, grabbing the gun and pointing it toward the door.

“Let’s go,” she was at his side instantly, tugging at his elbow, pulling him toward where he knew the cellar door was located. It was impossible that this girl knew where to go, but when she led him down the stairs, into the cellar, and then through the doors that hid his private, secret room, he was stunned.

He slept little that night. After locking them both in he’d watched in shock as Alice made herself entirely too comfortable, curling up in the linens that he usually slept on, and falling into her dreams easily.

It would be a strange thing to have to explain to the patrons he’d evacuated today why this girl had been allowed to stay and why she would still be there when he opened up shop in the morning.

But morning came. And George didn’t.

Miriam delivered the teary news herself, her young grandson clinging to her leg on the porch of the bar, his eyes blown wide as he jumped at anything that moved.

“It got him last night,” the woman explained as calmly as she could. “Ripped him right out of my arms before I could shout or do anything. I didn’t even see the thing but it was there. It was in my home, and now my Georgie is gone.” 

The mourning widow left, off to deliver the news to more of George’s acquaintances, and Alice’s words from the night before felt heavy in his head.

“ _Tonight your friend with the beard is next._ ”

When he closed the door back up, locking up before noontime rolled around, he turned to find Alice sitting at one of the barstools, looking toward him with sad eyes. “I don’t want to be right all the time,” she spoke quietly. “I don’t like knowing these things.”

“How do you know them?” He asked, feeling a bit lightheaded as he stumbled his way toward the bar and sat himself heavily in the stool besides hers.

“I can’t explain it. I get feelings. I see pictures. And then things happen.” When she reached over and grabbed his hand, he didn’t even fight her. He didn’t _want_ to fight her. He was too tired to fight anything anymore. Especially these phantoms that stole and took no matter what they did. Alice lifted his hand, pressing his palm against her cheek and holding it there. “I can’t change the things that happen. But this time I’m going to try.”

“You said I die?” Her skin was soft under his hand, and as he spoke he found himself studying this little witch’s solemn expression.

“Not if I can help it.”

“You said no one dies tonight.” She nodded in confirmation. “And that you want to leave by tomorrow night.”

“If we don’t, we die.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek, watching as she closed her eyes and sighed at the touch. He frowned then, pulling his hand out of her grip and back into his lap. The noise she made wasn’t quite _helping_ him interact with his guest in an appropriate manner. He shifted on the stool and looked out to his empty bar.

“If no one vanishes tonight, I’ll believe you. And then I’ll come along.”

Alice, who had frowned as he pulled himself away from her, smiled then. Her relief was so palpable that he found himself relaxing.

He spent the day out on the town after that. Alice had advised him that if she went with him people would talk and it wouldn’t bode well for her, so she was forced to stay behind while he walked around town, gathering provisions and looking for a pair of shoes for the girl.

He bought some from George’s niece, Frances, who regarded him coolly but sold him the shoes anyways. Alice had tiny feet, she explained to him before he left for his errands. To try and get her point across she’d boldly grabbed his hand again before pressing it flat against the sole of her foot, showing him that her toes barely reached his middle finger.

He’d pulled his hand away from the improper girl swiftly, neck blood-red as he’d muttered under his breath before gathering his hat and leaving her behind. Her cheeky grin that he caught proved to him that the little woman knew she was being lewd.

It annoyed him to no end that the shoes he bought—that he very stealthily measured against his open palm—fit Alice perfectly. When she slipped them on she smirked up at him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

She advised him to gather some of his belongings—“I can’t see how long they’ll be in this area; it could be years”—but he shook his head. He’d only been in the small town for a couple of years now. He’d looked for somewhere quiet to live after the war but despite his residence and relative success in this small town, he knew it wasn’t a place he’d stay for too long.

His belongings, or at least the ones he cared about, were meager. As long as he had a canteen of water, a fresh set of clothes, and his guns in his knapsack, he’d be content. He packed a second bag, at Alice’s request. One that she would carry as they ran back east. This one with only threadbare blankets and food that wouldn’t spoil.

Alice appeared to have no idea how long it would take them to travel a safe enough distance, so that night he packed extra food and spent an hour digging through crates for another canteen.

If death was certain when they stayed, he wanted to be sure it wouldn’t claim them on the run, as well.

They bunkered down before sunset that night. Jasper felt almost calm, for the first time in months. He wasn’t sure if it was Alice’s presence that calmed him, or his quick trust in her ability that she was so confident in, but after he barricaded the door, he felt at peace almost.

“It will be okay,” she whispered, and when she grabbed his hand and pulled him after her, he didn’t resist. But when she laid him down and simply rested herself beside him, lacing her fingers with his, he found himself relieved. She was asleep minutes later, the glow of the lantern illuminating the angles of her face in the darkness.

Lifting his other hand he hesitated before reaching over and brushing the back of his knuckles lightly across her cheek. Her appearance in this town still made little sense to him, but it was hard to force himself to understand when she clearly operated in a different state of mind than he.

Still, when he woke early the following morning—a little disoriented and almost stunned he’d slept so soundly—to Alice pulling a blanket overtop of the both of them, he couldn’t help it when he rolled toward her, pulling her against him. And when he lazily kissed her, hardly thinking about what he was doing, she sighed against him as if she’d been waiting for it.

They rolled around the sheets, learning each other’s bodies until mid-morning when she froze, breaking a heated kiss as her eyes glassed over. Jasper called her name multiple times, but the only physical sign that she was hearing him at all came when she reached out for him blindly, her hands only stilling when they grasped his face between them.

He waited what felt like an eternity before she blinked again, and suddenly she was sitting up. The abrupt motion would’ve forced her forehead to smack into his face if he hadn’t shifted out of the way in time. Then, she was panting, clutching her hands to her naked chest as she pulled her knees up.

“No,” she whispered, the word catching on a sob. “No, _no_ , it can’t be…”

“What’s happening?” Jasper reached out for her quickly, brushing strands of hair out of her face only to reveal wide, terrified eyes. “Alice, what… what did you _see_?”

“I was wrong,” she whispered as the tears pooled over. Then, her eyes locked onto his. “We don’t have another night.”

“What… how… but you said—”

“They caught my scent. They know I was with my friend—he was covered in my scent, too. They know I’m out here. It’s,” a realization struck her so abruptly that she flinched, her head falling into her hands, “oh god. Oh, my god.”

“Alice,” he reached forward and gripped her shoulders, giving her a firm shake, “Alice, look at me. What happened?”

“It’s all my fault!” Then she let out a shriek that almost made Jasper smack his hands over his ears. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.” When she started rocking back and forth Jasper didn’t know what to do. “It’s me. I’m the reason they come for you. I’m the reason we die. It all makes sense now. _It’s my fault_.”

“ _I can’t change the things that happen,_ ” she had told him confidently. The words of a woman with nothing to lose. “ _But this time I’m going to try._ ”

And she’d tried. And, according to herself, she’d failed. And now there was nothing to be done.

Jasper had thought enough about his own fate in the past few months. Every night that passed was another night in which he may die, and every morning that greeted him had begun one more day that he didn’t expect to be gifted.

Since the end of the war, Jasper had realized he’d been living on borrowed time. He’d dodged death too often, in ways that made little sense. But he’d made it home, unlike so many of his brothers in arms.

He’d been prepared to die since he was a sixteen-year-old kid, lying to an army recruiter and getting away with it because he was tall.

Now that he stood on death’s front porch, he couldn’t even find the fear within himself. It was _Alice’s_ fear that made him act. “Is there nothing I can do?” He asked pitifully, hands still resting helplessly on her shoulders as the girl shook and sobbed. “Tell me how I can get you out of here. Tell me how I can save at least _you_.” He was ready to die. This girl, not so much.

“It’s pointless,” she cried, tears and snot and spit falling from her face. “I doomed you. I’m sorry Jasper. I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her up in his arms then, feeling hollow as he listened to her sob noisily.

He didn’t bother opening up the bar that day. Nor did he want to walk around town and hear any new news. He already knew that what Alice had told him—about there being no disappearances last night—was true. He could feel it firmly in his bones.

They eventually dressed themselves and left the small hideout, wandering back up to the main level to lounge around the bar. Alice’s face was red, swollen with tears, her dress hastily fastened and tied without care. 

He didn’t go far that day. Just down the street to trade some liquor for a couple of hot meals. It felt strange, to know that he would be dead by the time the sun rose the following morning. Even as he bid Miss Tassie a farewell it felt strange. Like it wasn’t enough to simply say goodbye and walk back to his sanctuary.

But that’s just what he did. He didn’t walk around and bid farewell to his regulars. He didn’t stop by Mick’s place and tell him that he’d have to take over the bar again. He didn’t even take a good look at the sun—he knew the sky would stay blue and the sun would stay bright without him committing it to memory.

He and Alice ate their fill quietly. After their meal Alice curled up right there on the floor and slept. Jasper nearly joined her before he realized he wanted to tidy things up for Mick. Make it easier for them to reopen the bar once he was gone.

As he cleaned he let his mind wander. He hoped that the monsters that came for them would at least have the decency of whisking them away to kill them. He didn’t want these poor people to have to clean up another gory mess. As he packed away spirits and ales he wondered if they would maybe kill them first, then take their bodies elsewhere to feed.

He supposed he should’ve felt more uneasy at the idea, but the thoughts were something to pass the time.

Eventually Alice woke and they sat up, passing a bottle between them.

After a few hours Alice decided to tell him exactly what they would be missing out on. About the life they would’ve had ahead of them, had their future not changed course. They would’ve ran back to Mississippi, she claimed, but they wouldn’t have stayed long. Then, they would’ve travelled north. Jasper scoffed at the idea of willingly mingling with the yankees, to which Alice had smacked his shoulder firmly, shushing him.

“After a few years we’d get married, of course.”

Jasper made another offended noise. “Years? Why years?” 

“Because our cover story would include already _being_ married. But we’d get married for real up north. We would have to anyways, I’d get pregnant once we settled into the city.”

“Hm,” he hummed as she spoke, pulling her close to him and pressing his nose into her hair. She smelled like wet dirt and liquor, but Jasper didn’t mind. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to picture the future they’d never have, wishing he could see it the same way she could. “Then what?”

“You’d get a job working at the harbor as a deckhand. We’d have a little house with a view of the water where the kids and I could look out and see where you were. You’d have lots of friends,” she looked up at him, “you’re very personable, you know. Then, I’d make you quit and get a job somewhere else, because I can see instances where you hurt yourself on a few occasions. After that…”

The spent their day like this. Alice was a never-ending supply of what-ifs as he supplied ideas and alternatives for the future they’d never have. The more intoxicated they became the more elaborate the stories grew, and eventually as he turned and looked down at Alice, tucked in the crook of his arm and laughing herself silly, he realized how easy it would have been to fall in love with the psychic girl.

Too bad they were doomed.

The had sex a few more times after that as they continued to get progressively drunker until eventually they both passed out, fully naked and wrapped up in one another on the floor of the bar.

Jasper came to hours later. When he sat up he realized he was still drunk, and it took him several minutes to realize what time it was. He rushed over toward the window, stumbling the entire way. When he noticed the moon high in the sky he felt all the blood rush out of his body.

Turning back toward Alice, who was still unconscious on the floor where he’d left her, he left his heart clench and his stomach drop. He couldn’t wake her. It would be cruel to have her wait up alongside him before their death.

Instead, he approached quietly, and as carefully as he was able to, lifted the skinny girl into his arms. Alice barely shifted as he carried her across the bar and down the stairs, but when he tried to lower her onto the rickety mattress of his hideout, her arms weakly reached out to him.

“Stay,” she mumbled in her sleep, her arms lacing behind his neck as she sighed.

Jasper leaned forward and kissed her softly before laying beside her. With one hand he brushed his fingers through her hair, and within a minute she was back asleep.

He covered her in every blanket he could find, before he took one final look at her and left the room.

They came for him eventually.

It wasn’t noiseless, the way he thought it would be. No stealth was attempted as the creatures of the night pushed his door open, breaking the lock and sending wood chips flying. Jasper didn’t even have time to fire his gun before something was gripping his throat fiercely. 

“Do not crush that one yet,” a heavily accented voice spoke, and suddenly there was a group of what looked like people standing around his bar. Their eyes all glowing red. “Find the girl first.”

“NO,” Jasper kicked his feet at the red-eyed monster who held his life in their hands.

After a long peal of laughter, the voice chimed in again. “I like him. Him, we will use.” Jasper watched as a small dark-haired woman strode up to him slow enough that she looked almost human. Then, she turned toward the man who held him and said, “if you keep him alive long enough for me to change him, you can have the girl.”

When the creature holding onto him let out a hiss, Jasper flinched, his hands tugging and pulling at the stone-cold wrist gripping him.

“Hello soldier,” the woman spoke to him directly now, eyeing his military uniform with amusement (he’d decided to die wearing what he thought he would have, years ago). “Welcome to a different kind of war.”

The next several minutes were a blur of pain and movement and screaming. His final thoughts were focused solely on his lovely little Alice, dread weighing down his every thought as he imagined all the ways they would kill her. She hadn’t been ready to die, but she’d risked her life to save him anyways.

Unfortunately, she’d played right into fate’s hand.

And when the fire started, Jasper knew it was over.


End file.
